the goblin reminded himself again, that all we ever have is now, that little window of time between the dealt hand and the unplayed cards, and that perhaps, "to live" was to turn over each card one by one, while "to post" was to win a trick then, "...who knows, with enough tricks, one might actually go on to win the game itself with my final card, now that would be something..." hoped the goblin ever aiming at it

which was the very moment the spacecraft landed, and a little green alien said "...take me to your leader...", the goblin replied "...well, I don't know if he's actually the one you want, he's rather busy too, but a word of advise then, don't mention the housing crisis, unemployment, the price of petrol, global warming, the troops in Iraq and alfghanistan, the deficit, gunlaws, unlawful detentions, torture and the exchange rate, second thoughts would you like larry king or jerry springer instead..." to which the alien scratched his head, got back on his spaceship and whizzed away not quite sure what to make of the humans then, nor of the goblin for that matter

"...anyway, I don't want a tombstone..." voiced the goblin, taking a shortcut through the cemetery "... well, that's if nothing in my life was worth remembering that is, and if it was worth remembering, then why have anything else to be remembered by..." a murder of crows fought over some leftover bread, which seemed appropriate, as the goblin passed names he didn't know, written on imposing headstones, till he came across a tree, that was simply pushing over a tombstone with time "...ah, so much for our efforts then..." smiled the goblin at the tree, knowing that the slot would have this image tonight, the goblin couldn't let it pass

the goblin filled out the notice: "missing, american housewife last seen pushing grocery cart down goblin's last post thread, if found please return to her to the supermarket where another one can be duly attached, warning, do not feed and do not approach as she can be dangerous in that she might fall on you, thank you", "...there slot the things I do for this site, honestly I should get a "bottom poster" award for this...", "...goblin, if we do come across this american housewife ourselves...", "...don't worry slot, I have it all planned, we can borrow a dumpcart, turn it on its side and roll her in, ah wait a sec, how are we going to get the dumpcart upright again..." the goblin looked down and was rubbing his chin "...you know slot this could be more difficult than I thought..." said the goblin now open to suggestions

meanwhile, back at CIA headquarters agent Joe is carefully monitoring al qaida's secret website at his desk, he thinks "...where's mac with my coffee then..." as he starts reading through the new posts for subliminal messages, reads: "infidel, may a thousand scorpions sit on your bum, your goblin days are numbered, this is my "last post" thread, it is written", then agent joe looks up at agent mccoy who has come with his coffee, says "...you take over mac, I'm beat, I need a break..." turning to the second screen with showing the CIA's site, he sips his coffee, feels better, clicks "new posts", and then writes: "listen goblin, there's no way this thread is yours buddy", somehow the goblin is always supportive, he just likes sending people up he felt

day's end, halloween, and the goblin passed the cemetery where voices seemed to say "...and where are our sweets then, are we forgotten now...", so the goblin promised to return the next day with a few he hadn't given away to the children, adding "...alright, but it'll be our secret then...", "...promise..." they seemed to reply as he walked on in the darkness

the bistro owner's wife is enormous for her short size, and the goblin often looks at her, not so much with some indecent intention, but more as an object for some great hug, the personification of gaea in his view, and in this adoration, her hug alone would make up for every other woman he knew, and whether, his hands would meet behind her back, didn't matter, no it did matter, and yes they wouldn't, wow at the thought then, which alas is all it could be, yet those were the hugs of his childhood as he remembers them

the goblin had come to an agreement with the owner of the bistro, in that as soon a the place filled with lunch people, the goblin would uproot to the bar and continue tappidytyping from there, the owner had once asked why the goblin typed so much, "...well, life is a race with death for revealing oneself through ones creations...", "..yer ok, but that isn't going to pay the bills then, is it..." the owner replied, so the goblin just found himself remembering that phrase he knew "domine, quo vadis", guessing he was simply going back because others were departing from it, and just typed on instead

the goblin lets the post write itself, he often feared that if he didn't, it wouldn't, so the simple fact of switching off the distractions, first those obvious ones, and then recognizing the others too, had become an objective in itself here, the bistro was better than his home in this way, yes there was noise, people, and clutter, but they were not his, they, like the rest of it, were happening around him, and not to him, then suddenly, he voiced aloud to himself something looking at the slot, saying "...this life always finds "tokens of value" for one if one doesn't recognize "real value" for oneself...", so the heads in the bistro would turn towards him for a brief moment, before they too, dismissed this as yet another distraction for them

"...we wish you a merry christmas and a happy new year, good tiding we bring..." and on hearing that song now, the goblin would be once more back at the bookworm bookshop with the ghosts of his past, as the son stood by the counter and recounted how he had once received a postcard from someone who had died in the planecrash the day before, the mother, sat at the cashdesk, priced the books, and somehow, the goblin fitted as he hand-wrote his "dear all diary", or something thing else, wordless except for asking the spelling of something, until the droning carol music, which had got on everyone's nerves there, had got to the goblin's too, so he paid his coffee, and started singing in tune "...we wish you a merry syphilis and a happy gonerear..." only to be "dirty looked" by the mother into silence who couldn't help herself bursting out laughing two seconds later, "...we are not the red cross you know..." she would say, but the bookshop was exactly that, and when she suddenly died a few years later this world collapsed, and within a year her son too, first having lost the battle to alcoholism, was found drowned in the river, so if they are reading this now their goblin friend misses them and this journey to self should be in part theirs he feels

"...the pleasure is all mine as it's you now..." replied the goblin, knowing that talent had turned up now, not that the goblin ever linked links or named names then, for elsewhere remained ever elsewhere with him, where he stopped for a moment and then just continued, slowly saying "...small world it is then, my two needs are met on this forum, that is, an unhindered edit thread, and a communal "last post" thread too, neither of them mine in any way but an interesting venture don't you think, wish me luck then..."

another email to say that the goblin's mother swallows again and although the event in itself has passed, at least the family consensus upon this normally unaddressed question was now there, and squarely answered, that "if she couldn't eat for herself, then no one would force tube feeding on her", "...and, if it is this answer for my mother, then it would be the same for the others in my family..." said the goblin knowing that the response of each family member here, was in itself, a living will of their wishes for themselves too, should they fall into the same situation that is, "...the suffering of others turns ourselves inwards, and the self grows by these moral dilemmas that they ask of us..." concluded the goblin before his work pulled him away, but the "what if it were me" question had been faced and answered, the rest was just fate now

"Ah, goblin. The hours fly by and the minutes are just a vague blur." muses xxxxx. "It seems like just a second ago that I attempted to wrest the last poster crown from your head"

the goblin would give that crown to the poster whenever she wished knowing that it would roll back to him soon enough, "... it's like a box where I am systematically pulling things out trying to get to the bottom of it and still there is just more and more..." said the goblin adding "...though the funny thing is that the box itself doesn't look all that big..."

And here it was that KarlR found himself indebted to the goblin and asked himself, "How to repay the kind words of a familiar face from another life if not by the sincerest form of flattery," and thereby closed his post with gratitude.

(and with that the goblin went back to editing, saying "...those who know me from elsewhere understand already that I have just started and have months of editing to do, where simply a post is not really a post until it is a repost says much about my way of thinking, perhaps this is air/edit/backup in practice then...")

repost from elsewhere

here then the goblin posts his wish, something that he has often said to himself "...um I wish that I could do the right thing and that the right thing would happen..." and yet, the goblin also understands, that life just isn't cheap like that, simply it owes one nothing for one's actions good or bad, so the goblin doesn't look to the reward in those actions now, no, more simply that "those actions" became all the reward he could expect from them, and somehow the goblin felt that those actions became just that much more honest when it unrewarded or unpunished, concluding "...neither heaven and hell are my motivations in my actions then, I am not for sale here, no, simply the action is the reward in itself now, as it is its punishment too..."

the goblin simply understood that once the thread was closed by someone it became a book, “...ah but I don't want to be a book, I am still very much alive...” declared the goblin who had fallen into a book a few time but he always restarted elsewhere

the goblin upon leaving home his morning had sailed singlehandedly across to the nearest bistro where upon landing fell to ground to do his shoelace first and then to boldly state "...I claim this coffeeshop in the name of writersbeat forum to the detriment of you regulars who do not type with laptops here MYAHAHAHAHA..." at which point the bistro owner's wife, enormous as ever, bounces out of the kitchen, wipes her wet hands on her thick thighs, flicks her hair back and looks at the goblin with those eyes again "...and what can I do for you senior goblin, a coffee I know but would you like more my sweet one..." the goblin feels his shoes with the bottom of his chin, retrieves his composure somehow, points to a cake and tries not to look at her as she slowly bends over for it saying "...ah you like these then..." she asks, at which point the goblin resembles something slowly turning on a spit as he pays and scurries to the corner table to get on-line again, "for he who had sailed in now surfs away" types the goblin as the picture fades

these words, once written, live on adrift this forumland where, sooner or later, one came across them again thinking "...oh yes that was me then too..." before moving on to others words, so perhaps for that reason alone no one can ever really have the last word now, the word has only itself, as an infinite then, against the short span that it is looked upon, which is finite..." he supposed, continuing "...no, it's not "who has the last word or words" then, it's which words has the last person viewing them..." ventured the goblin at a sea of infinite words to choose amongst

("...yay, thread moved to the best spot on the forum, thanks admin, love you now, yes I promise to say nice things about holland and I'll put the money in an envelope and just slip it under the counter as agreed then..." went the happy goblin suspecting that others might join him now, well, all welcome to try he supposed, yet didn't everyone just know that there could only really be one goblin at the end of this, saying "...you post at your peril mortals MYAHAHAHAHA...")

repost from elsewhere

the goblin felt that Kas81's undercover work at the writersbeat dance club was getting close to uncovering their big secret now, as she managed to take this one secret video of the forum's ring leaders here, for she was coy, oh yes, she had them all fooled into thinking that she too was one of them then, and yes, even the goblin had to admit that she was perfect at it

Last edited by fleamailman; 04-30-2011 at 03:01 AM..

The Following User Says Thank You to fleamailman For This Useful Post:

and with that the image of queen Nadju was slowly taking shape in the goblin's mind

At least get my name right! I saw that picture but I can't remember what it was

"...um, sorry there must be something wrong with my keyboard because each time to I try to type your name is just writes queenhairdo now..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...yes I'm so sorry, and I'm going to have it out with my keyboard in a moment, promise, going naughty keyboard how could you possibly write queenhairdo instead of queenhairdo, oh there it does it again...", where somewhere in the background the goblin's voice goes "...listen keyboard, I know we've both seen that marsattack film but are you sure there's a resemblance here, I mean was that actually her film then..."

meanwhile back at coronation street's rovers return, "...oh knees up mother brown, knees up mother brown, another stout with your chip butty goblin, how's that anthropological report going then..." the bucksum barmaid asks over the counter where the goblin types away next to her untouched offerings "...well I'll get round to eating them later(lying), btw do you have any coffee by any chance..." asked the goblin half in prayer to a somewhat bewildered barmaid rubbing the stubble on her chin as she tries to recollect "...eh, coffee now is it, um, I'll go down to the cellar luv, do you know what the bottle looks like...", "...no that's alright, I was..." as they both suddenly gasped as they saw a policebox appear by the dart's board where out pops a man "...hello, I am the doctor, I say, could I have a chip butty too please with a coke now...", the barmaid leans over to the goblin again whispers "...bloody londoners from the BBC, always the same, he'll start asking directions next, just you watch..." the barmaid voice grows louder adding "...here you go luv, if you want more HP source just holler..." as she plonks the chip butty on the counter, "...thank you, and you must be a goblin my good fellow, always nice to meet someone from the computer world, btw you wouldn't happen to know my way off this ITV channel by any chance..." the barmaid just squinted her face and gave a nod of "told you so" to the goblin who added it to his report here

[footnote: dr who did find his way back to the BBC after accidentally landing in ITV's coronation street , not least because the goblin had given directions in exchange for a giant tin of instant coffee, that is, moments before the barmaid, now changed into her revealing sexy space suit, entered the tardis saying "...back in tick luv, the doctor has promised to show me his knobs..." where the goblin just squinted his face and gave a nod of "told you so too" as was customary on coronation street]

the goblin supposed that, if life made sense, then it would be too simple, and that, if "the effect" was always as predicted by "the cause", then people would just look to their reward each time over the action itself then, so the goblin didn't believe in "reward", knowing that this life was full of cases, where "cause and effect" didn't neatly follow one another, and the goblin thanked his life for it then, that "cause and effect" was mostly true, yes, though never quite 100% true where dailylife was concerned, so the goblin just repeated his favorite line to himself again "...the action is the reward in itself or else it's just cheap and one is buying the reward now...", ah yes, but the goblin had often been the cheap blind calculative type in his dealings with others, though maybe he was older now, at least he hoped so

"...no, I am not in now..." whispered the goblin whose his mind had starting tiptoeing around from under an ever so fained interested in dailylife facade, the one he usually wore towards the outside world where today too, some cold reality of a mundane existence orchestrated between a dailylife and that moneygod who would no doubt demand their dues soon enough, ah but on the inside the goblin just pretended not to be in again, repeating "...who knows, if I am quiet long enough they might think there's no one home and forget about me even for a moment..." but no, somehow this deception never lasted long enough, as invariably the clock discovered the goblin's mental whereabouts and then just unhinged the latch to the outside world once more, letting it all gatecrash the goblin's all too tranquil state of denial here, "...I am not in..." the goblin repeated and repeated again, but the clock was growing dangerously close now with seconds were pinging for his echo

the goblin was really enjoying the fact, that his wife and children were away on some shopping-holiday weekend leaving him to get up to something, even if at this point he couldn't think of any secret urge worth gratifying, lamenting "...oh no, this is absolutely awful the way one sees though ones own temptations in the end...", so the goblin ended up simply going back to the bistro once more thinking consequence makes cowards of us all

("...thanks for reading my posts mortals, jump in whenever then, just read if you wish but feed is much more fun, isn't it..." mentioned the goblin not to be trusted though)

repost from elsewhere

the goblin had been admiring the wet weather, like a toad on a toadstool, simply that today too promised to be dull at best, as he readies himself for the same old tour to the mountains under those now all too familiar ominous rainclouds again, the goblin, lifting his spirits to the occasion, starts singing "...I'll be going through the motions when it rains, I'll be going through the motions when it rains, I'll be going though the motions, going though the motions, going though the motions, I'll am going though the motions when she pours..." to an onlooking day, who is not really impressed, while the goblin's "song against the weather" continues throughout, somehow leaving the only real question as to who would break first, "...ah, but I have the advantage of the internet here, where you are still stuck in dailylife..." smirked the goblin against the grayness around him

the goblin reflected upon the posters question "what does one win" and then realized that poster could have anything he or she wished for because either the goblin would be alive to stop them or dead where it wouldn't matter to the goblin, but at any rate a phrase sprung to the goblin's mind at this point "the action is the reward here" as he then promoted all previous posters upwards again, for what could possibly equate to being able to post

and with that the goblin was looking at this thread with renewed zeal, in fact he felt that he had not been to himself recently probably because he hadn't read the warning on the dailylife packs, which read "warning, dailylife and the petty schemes of the moneygod can seriously distract one from the whole picture"

between the pouring rain, and unforgiving sun, geneva has periods of gray dullness like now, in which the goblin would usually sit in the bistro trying to make sense of his life, before giving up knowing that when it all made sense he would only want he life to be a mystery again, saying "...now that I understand, I don't want to understand anymore..."

"...ah yes, teenage romance..." remembers the goblin "...something about baying to the moon till the next moon and promising that there will never be any other moon but this moon forever...", ah but to this goblin today, that was all so many moons ago now